


Riddles

by Cat_Moon



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 10:03:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19332328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Cat_Moon
Summary: Blake and Avon converse in riddles.  Can they cut through to the truth of their relationship?





	Riddles

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another oldie, circa 1994 when I was briefly into B7. Not sure if it was ever published anywhere.

Everyone on the flight deck stared after the departing Avon. He'd never been known for his charming disposition, but he had been even more disagreeable of late. This latest in a series of temper tantrums had erupted with little provocation from Blake. It was getting to be habit. A bad, perhaps dangerous habit.

"You have to talk with him," Jenna told Blake grimly. "Before he kills one of us."

Blake sighed, putting a hand on her shoulder as he passed. "No need for you to worry yet, I'm first on his list."

"Be careful," she called after him.

 

******

 

"What is wrong with you?" Blake stood there, hands on hips.

"You want to know what's wrong with me, do you?" Avon queried.

"I'd like to, yes."

_I should. I'd like to wipe that arrogant, self-righteous out of you..._ "All right, I'll tell you." Avon grabbed Blake and pushed him against the bulkhead, trapping him there with his body. His lips descended with snake-like speed, capturing Blake's stunned mouth in a fierce and possessive kiss.

For a few moments, Blake was immobile. Avon experienced a moment of amused satisfaction, at rendering Roj Blake defenseless.

Then, slowly, Blake's arms came up and wrapped firmly around Avon, holding him in a tight grip. In the space of a heartbeat, the game had changed. Avon felt the avalanche of unspeakable feelings descend on him. The blood pounded in his veins, roared in his ears. Blake kissed him deeply, stealing the breath and the life and the freedom from his lungs.

The knowledge gave him the strength to pull away, but as he stared at Blake, he realized it was already too late. Knowing by Blake's expression that he was just as effected was small comfort. Very small, indeed.

For he was Roj Blake.

"Don't worry, you'll recover fast," Avon told him with ragged sarcasm, sure, bitter knowledge. _And be in control once more. The only thing which saves me is that you think_ _ **I'm**_ _in control of myself._ He found himself staring at Blake's wet lips despite himself.

"Recover?" Blake echoed. He didn't seem capable of coherent thought. Avon took some pride in the fact that these few minutes were probably the longest Blake had gone without thinking about the rebellion.

He smiled slightly. "The revolution, remember?" Prudent now that he was in over his head to subvert the issue skillfully.

Blake's eyes clouded in confusion for a moment, then cleared a bit. Oddly, he still seemed shook up. "What does that have to do with...this?"

Avon shook his head. "Everything." Blake's attitude was becoming alarming, too dangerously vague, too easy for wishful thinking... "Come now, Blake, surely your cloak of revolutionary fervor hasn't deserted you?!"

"I don't understand..."

"No, you never did."

Blake took a step towards him, he retreated two. Blake cleared his throat. "You just kissed me. Don't you think we need to talk about it?"

"There is nothing we could say that wouldn't be futile, meaningless, or...deceit." Blake had kissed back though. He couldn't help but wonder why.

"Then why did you do it?"

"To wipe the arrogance out of you for a brief moment," Avon answered honestly.

Blake raised his eyebrows. "My arrogance? Must be a compliment, from the man who invented the word."

Avon found himself smiling. Very bad, if he wasn't careful, Blake might start getting ideas about him. About the truth beneath his cloak. He wiped the smile off his face and replaced it with a contemptuous scowl.

Before he knew quite what was happening, he was jolted by the touch of a hand on his arm. Blake was slowly but firmly drawing him closer again. How had Blake gotten so close without him noticing? He tensed for flight.

"I have to hold you again." It was said low, and Avon closed his eyes, standing very still in the embrace. "And if you insist on continuing with your diatribe, I shall have to find a way to keep your mouth quiet."

"Why do you have to hold me?" Avon gritted out.

"I don't know," Blake sounded genuinely puzzled. "Why did you kiss me?"

"I answered that already," Avon replied impatiently, struggling to free himself.

"I'm not letting you loose," Blake said, holding on.

The words gave Avon the impetus to break free of the suffocating embrace. "Do you think I don't know that!" he yelled, breaking away violently. He retreated to a neutral corner, pulling his dignity around him once again. Another dangerous slip. Hopefully Blake would misconstrue.

There was silence for too long, Avon was about to start squirming. He refused to try and decipher the expression on Blake's face.

Finally, Blake spoke. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, with genuine regret lacing his voice, and to Avon's utmost astonishment--he turned and left the room.

Avon stood there for a long time. His first impulse was to go after the man. Demand an explanation for his behavior. Then he became angry, suspicion growing through him. _It's just another of his expert manipulations._ Anger raged through him, and he resolved to stay where he was. _I won't go crawling to you, if that's what you think._ But as he stood there, his resolve faltered, curiosity slowly getting the best of him. It always had been his worst trait--had gotten him in trouble on more than one occasion.

Muttering an oath, he marched out of the door.

 

******

 

Avon wasn't sure what he expected to find when he walked into Blake's quarters, but the sight that greeted him was a surprise. Blake was sitting on the couch, drink in his hand. The sorrow on his face seemed real enough.

Avon stood just inside the door uncertainly.

"What are we to do then?" Blake asked after a moment. When he got no response, he continued. "Avon rendered speechless? This really is a day."

Poised on the edge, retreat or advance?

"Would you like a drink?" Blake asked with a trace of amusement.

Avon nodded, and watched as Blake poured another glass of soma. It occurred to him that liquor was probably the only simple human pleasure the great god Blake allowed himself. Had the man ever known how to relax and enjoy life? To have fun?

_Do you?_ a voice inside Avon's head mocked. He suddenly felt sad for both of them. Granted, there wasn't much about life to enjoy, and if there had been, their opinions about what that was would be totally different.

On the other hand, Blake probably did enjoy his martyrdom. Yes, that was part of the problem.

Blake was looking at him expectantly, so he took the proffered drink and sat down gingerly on the other side of the couch, shaking off the unpleasant ruminations. He hated becoming philosophical.

For a long time, they just sat, drinking in silence. It was companionable somehow, an odd feeling. Avon knew they really didn't have anything to say to each other. The thoughts and arguments could go round and round in their heads without need of waste of time verbalization.

"I didn't know."

And Avon was suddenly too tired to deny what he was sure was Blake's meaning. "You weren't supposed to."

"I know," Blake said, proving Avon's suspicion that talking would be a waste of time.

How could it be that two people could be so in tune, yet so distant at the same time?

"It was a momentary lapse," Avon felt the need to interject.

Blake turned to face Avon squarely, his demeanor speaking of his intent to get down to serious discussion. "Was it, Avon?" he asked intently, eyes searching his. "What can one do when there is nothing one can do?"

Avon grinned a little. "When a tree falls in the forest and there is no one there to hear it, does it make a sound?" he murmured, mostly to himself.

"Yes," Blake said in a low voice. "It matters."

Avon shook himself again at their empathy. Totally in tune but completely out of sync, forever coming closer but staying miles apart.

"A difference which is no difference, makes no difference," Blake said.

"This is beginning to get banal," Avon commented dryly.

Blake inched closer carefully. "If I can't turn you loose by turning you loose..." he didn't finish it.

Avon was vaguely surprised at the candid conversation. "Does that absolve you of all responsibility?" he shot out, even while knowing Blake did feel insufferable responsible--that was also the problem. Blake didn't answer, which was just as well. Avon laughed harshly. "Do you think either of us can compromise?"

"Perhaps not," Blake answered calmly. Then his face grew earnest again. "But I'd like to try."

"So you say, now."

"After the Federation got through with me...well, I don't feel as if there's much left inside. But if you care for me--especially you--maybe there is something worth loving after all."

_You_. Odd how meaningful that one word could be.

"I'm going to be brutally honest, take it as you will. When you were in my arms," Blake's rich voice made the words a caress, "I felt that hollow part stir. I'd like a chance with you."

"Save you at the expense of myself?" Avon said without mirth. "Martyrdom is your field."

"But you believe that you're lost no matter what you do," Blake pointed out.

Avon was hard pressed to argue in the face of that logic, much as he wanted to. All he knew was that he was being pulling in two separate directions by a centrifugal force. Perhaps it didn't matter which he chose: it would rip him apart in the end anyway. Choose the manner of your defeat. Of your surrender...

The hand on his knee burned clear up to his groin. "Give me a chance," Blake whispered. Avon closed his eyes involuntarily. He sensed Blake's mouth coming closer, let it. He kissed back hungrily, still keeping a modicum of control.

When they drew apart for air, Avon regarded Blake thoughtfully. "You may not know what you're getting into," he remarked.

"Don't worry, my expectations aren't that high," Blake answered with a grin.

"Liar," Avon accused gently. Suddenly, he began to laugh. Blake looked taken aback. "Don't you see?" Avon explained. "It's funny. Here you are warning me that you're dead inside--and all the while I know that I'm the one who's not worth it."

Blake regarded him gravely for just a moment, then smiled gently, framing his face with soothing hands. "Why Avon, you're right--we are perfect for each other." Blake kissed him again, already it was getting addicting.

Avon pulled back to stare at Blake. _Is that what I said??_ "It doesn't necessarily follow," he replied carefully.

"Let's find out," Blake said, and closed in again.

 

 

the end

9/23/94

 

 

 

 


End file.
